United States or Cuba ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


"Please, Mos' Buck," she said in a low tone, "ef I falls 'hin' myse'f, an' don't git up to them fus' figgers, an' has to git cowhided please, sah, don't let the black folks an' Als'on know 'bout it." Mr. Buck took a hint from this request.

Ef it hab ketch anywhar, nobody eber see US too. Fus, I t'ought I jump ober de side neber face de skipper any mo'. But he uz er good ole man, en he only say, 'Don't be sech blame jackass any more. En I don't." From which lucid narration I gathered that the finback had himself to thank for his immunity from pursuit. "'Sides," persisted Goliath, "wa' yew gwine do wiv' him?

Late one afternoon Miss Lou, feeling a little stronger, went to Aun' Jinkey's cabin and sat down on the doorstep. "Oh, mammy," she sighed, "I'm so tired, I'm so tired; yet I can do nothing at all." "You po' lil chile," groaned Aun' Jinkey, "how dif'ernt you looks ner w'en you fus sot dar en wish sump'n happen."

The fus' year after young Madam die he do nothin' but jes' set at the window 'n' look out at her grave, 'n' then come up 'n' look at the baby's neck 'n' say, 'It's fadin', Sophy, a'n't it? 'n' then go down in the study 'n' walk 'n' walk, 'n' them kneel down 'n' pray. Doctor, there was two places in the old carpet that was all threadbare, where his knees had worn 'em.

"Miss Null," said the old man, slowly unbending his back, and getting himself upright, "dar's allus sumfin' else to do. Eber sence I was fus' bawn dar was sumfin else to do, an' I spec's it'll keep on dat ar way till de day I dies." "Of course there will be nothing else to do then but to die," observed Mrs Null; "but I hope that day is far off, Uncle Isham." "Dunno 'bout dat, Miss Null," said he.

W'en Mars Archie foun' dat out, he sont ober ter our plantation fer ter tell Mars Dugal' he had shot one er his niggers, en dat he could sen' ober dere en git w'at wuz lef un 'im. "Mars Dugal' wuz mad at fus'; but w'en he got ober dere en hearn how it all happen', he did n' hab much ter say. Wiley wuz shot so bad he wuz sho' he wuz gwine ter die, so he up'n says ter ole marster:

'Caze ef I do that, you know, then, here, fus' thing, he be a-callin' me C'nelius." "I think C'nelius sounds sweet'n " The speaker clapped a hand to her mouth. "Escuse me! O, Mr. Leggett, kin you escuse me?" "Escuse you?" his sidelong glance was ravishing "yo' beauty mo'n escuse you." The maiden dropped her lashes and drew her feet out of her protector's way. "An' you an' Mr. Mahch is frien's!

"Good-bye, little misses," said Uncle Pomp, grasping Diddie's hand in one of his and Dumps's in the other; "good-bye; I gwine pray fur yer bof ev'y night wat de Lord sen'; an', mo'n dat, I gwine fotch yer some pattridge aigs de fus' nes' wat I fin's."

He says he's been to de big house way out to de colonel's, and dey th'owed him out and now he's gwineter sit down yere till somebody listens to him. It won't do to fool wid him, Marse Harry I see dat de fus' time he come. He's a he-one and he's got horns on him for sho'. What'll I do?" Both Harry and St. George roared.

"Now, if anybody'll study Nature," she would say, "they'll see she never cal'c'lated to fetch us here 'ithout makin' 'lowance fur to feed us. The fus' thing that comes up is dandelions an' I don't want to stick my tooth in anything that's better than dandelion greens biled with hog-jowl. I like a biled dinner any way.